


As these years go by

by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Talking, They act like they are very old. They are in their early 20s, hinted at backstory, im love they, oh mentions of character death, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth/pseuds/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth
Summary: Dr. D and Cherri Cola sit and talk
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola & Dr. Death Defying (Danger Days)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	As these years go by

D sighs, switching off the broadcast button with a click that echoes through the room like a shot, despite inches of soundproof padding on the walls. The news never gets easier, and he’d just been called away from getting ready for a night at Hyperthrust to report on a full-out massacre on the border of Zone Two. He sits back, grabbing a leather-bound notebook, and begins recording the deaths again, scribbling out his best guess for the date at the top of the page. 

_Brandi Bottlecap. Deceased. Mask not found._

_Wing and a Prayer. Deceased. Mask recovered._

_FishStickz. Drac’ed. Mask not found._

_Unnamed undergrad. Deceased. No mask._

_Unnamed undergrad. Drac’ed. No mask._

The list goes on, and D’s pen begins to dig into the page, leaving little rips in the paper. 

He only notices how long he’s been staring at the page when Cherri Cola knocks on the door, slipping in and flicking off the on-air light as he passes the switch. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Cherri.” D bookmarks the page before setting his notebook in his lap, fidgeting with the hem of his dress. 

“I talked to Show Pony, ae’s gonna see about getting some runners out to look for the missing masks, Prayer’s crew is gonna take hers to the mailbox on their own terms.” D nods. 

“Thank you, Cola.” He pauses a moment. “I just. Every name I read out on the radio, I have to wonder if there’s something I could have done to prevent it, hm?” It’s Cherri’s turn to nod.

“I think it’s to be expected, wonderin’ what more we could do. Comes with being human, I’m sure.” Cherri takes a shaky breath, sitting down on D’s desk, both legs crossed under him. “And having been the Zones’ second-best fighter probably makes it harder.”

“Second-best?” D raises an eyebrow, and Cherri smiles, just a hint of humor in his expression. 

“Well, yeah. I was the first.” D sticks his tongue out at Cherri, jokingly petulant, and Cherri’s expression softens. “How long has it been, D? How long have we known each other?”

“It’s been years, I know that much.” D shrugs, and Cherri motions for him to turn around, reaching for his hair. D does so, and Cherri runs his fingers through it, separating it into top and bottom. 

“I was fourteen, I think— one year too young to fight, but I joined up anyways.” D nods, accidentally jerking his hair away from Cherri’s hand, and Cherri flicks him lightly. 

“I remember meeting you, you saved my ass, and I still thought you were nothing more than a little kid playing war.”

“High and mighty prick, just a year older than me.” Cherri leans over to grab D’s wrist, stealing a hairtie off of it. 

“A year and a half,” D protests, “and decades behind you in skill.”

“‘Cept your skill in getting in trouble, you’ve always got me beat there.” Twisting D’s hair up into an approximation of a french braid, Cherri makes a face behind D’s back. 

“Was it better back then?” Cherri blinks, startled by the abrupt change of subject as well as the question itself. 

“What do you mean? It was a _war_ , D.”

“It’s still a war now. And then, at least, it was easier to feel like we were helping, easier to feel like we were making a difference.” D shrugs, and Cherri can feel the weight of his question in the motion of his shoulders. 

“Easier to feel like it, maybe, but that doesn’t mean we’re not helping now. Your broadcasts save dozens of lives each time you warn about a Drac patrol or bomb drop, hm?” Cherri shrugs, the motion more carefree than D’s had been. “And I’m the Zones’ prettiest pacifist poet, so you know. I’m doin’ the Witch’s work, just existing.” He gets a laugh out of D with that, as he fumbles with the hairtie, trying to tie it one-handed. D reaches back to help him, and Cherri grins, ghosting his fingers over the back of D’s hand. 

“Y’ever figure this is where you’d end up?”

“What, me doing your hair, or being a fucking outlaw in the middle of the desert?” 

“Both?” There’s a hint of a smile in D’s tone. “Mostly the second one, though. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an airplane pilot, did I ever tell you? I mean. That, and a gymnast and a marine biologist and a rockstar, probably every other job I knew the name of.”

“Was radio host and living legend one of those?” Cherri grins, pinning D’s braid around his head like a crown with various paperclips from D’s desk. 

“I don’t know about living legend, Cola.” As Cherri finishes, D beckons him out of the room. “Come sit outside with me?” Cherri hops off the desk, shaking out his limbs, and follows D out of the station, grabbing a blanket off the couch as he passes by. He doesn’t respond to D until the both of them are settled down again, Cherri pulling up a chair next to D and leaning his head against D’s shoulder. 

“I’d say you are. A legend, I mean. Doctor Death-Defying, the killjoy who singlehandedly took down more ‘C/R/O/W/S than anyone else, over the course of the analogs?” D shrugs. 

“Not like it changed anything. They just made more of ‘em.” Cherri huffs, suddenly frustrated. 

“Sayin’ that discredits all the ‘joys who died fighting for change, D.”

“Oh.” The two of them fall silent for a while, as dark clouds meander across the night sky. D pulls the blanket up around the both of them, and Cherri takes it gratefully, threading his fingers through D’s. 

“D’you remember that squadron leader of yours? The scary one.” 

D nods, taking out his earrings with his free hand, tucking them into the pocket on the side of his wheelchair for safekeeping. 

“Chelsea Cheshire? He was _terrifying_ to watch fight. What about her?”

“Have you heard from him recently? Any of our old friends? It feels like we’re losing more by the day.” If Cherri’s close to tears, it doesn’t show in his voice, not this time. 

“Drac’ed, about a year ago. She fought with what was left of my squadron for all the years between.”

“‘S hard to believe that was only a few years ago. Feels like the whole world’s changed, since then.” Cherri _is_ crying, silent, and D wipes a few tears from his face. 

“The whole world _has_ changed. For the better, I think.”

Cherri nods, letting go of D’s hand to scrub at his face, sitting up in his chair. 

“And us?”

“What about us?” D looks at Cherri, who smiles back, shakily. 

“Have we changed for the better?”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment below, and come find me on tumblr @wishiwasthemoon-tonight!


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